Chapter 19 Red Rose and Tiger Lily by L. T. Meade
TOPSY-TURVEY
While Guy and Molly were in vain endeavouring to comfort Nora, who, after uttering shriek after shriek, closed her eyes and lay perfectly still, so much so, that Molly thought for a moment that she had fainted, Sir John Thornton left his own private study, where he had been busily writing letters, and stepping out on the lawn, approached the spot where Hester and Annie, in their cool white dresses, were picking flowers to replenish the vases in the different sitting-rooms. The girls made a pretty picture, and Sir John always admired beauty in any form and under any guise.
"Really, Hester is becoming quite distinguished looking," he said to himself; "she inherits a good deal of her mother's grace, and although she will never be exactly pretty, she is very aristocratic in appearance. She has a good figure, too—graceful and lithe. Even beside Miss Forest, who is a regular beauty of the piquant gipsy order, she quite shows to advantage. Presently we may be able to get her presented, and, if necessary, we must have a house in town for three months in the season. (I shall detest it, but Laura says it is inevitable.) Yes, I'm sure I have done right. Hester is such a sensible girl that she will probably be glad of my news; yes, it is evidently my duty to take Hester into society, and Laura is just the woman to take all the care and worry off my hands. I should never have thought of marrying again if it were not for Hester and Nan, but no one can say that I shirk a father's duties. Now I must break it to Hetty, for Laura says she will be here on Saturday. I would rather she did not bring her daughter with her, but she evidently has not the least intention of coming anywhere without Antonia. Dear, dear, I hope Hester will be sensible. I don't want a bad quarter of an hour."
Sir John had now reached the two girls. He had quite forgotten his dislike to Annie, and smiling at her, asked her in his gracious way why she did not offer him a rosebud.
She picked one at once, and he got her to place it in his button-hole.
"Thank you," he said with a smile; "your taste is admirable, and now I have a favour to ask of you."
"Granted, of course," said Annie with a smile.
"I want to deprive you of Hetty's company for a quarter of an hour. I have some domestic matters to discuss with my fair housekeeper."
"You can arrange the flowers, Annie," called Hester, dropping her basket as she spoke, and going up to her fathers side.
He drew her hand through his arm and they walked across the lawn together.
"I have just been admiring you and your friend," he said. "Do you know, Hester, that you really grow very nice looking."
Hester flushed with a strange mingling of irritation and elation.
To be praised by her fastidious father was something to be remembered, but she always shrank from having her personal appearance commented upon.
Sir John turned round now and smiled into her blushing face.
"Come down this shady walk with me," he said. "I have a good deal to talk over with you. Hester, you and Nan have always found me a kind, indulgent father, have you not?"
"You have been very good to us," replied Hester.
"Oh, perhaps not so good as some fathers, but good according to my lights, eh?"
"You have been very good to us," repeated Hester.
"And you are a good, dear daughter," replied Sir John, with almost enthusiasm; "you never complain of the dull life I give you at the Grange."
"The life is not dull, father."
"My dear, my dear," Sir John patted Hester's long slim fingers as they rested on his arm, "I was young once myself and I know what youth wants, and I have seen other girls, and I know what my girl requires. Hester, I am not unmindful of you; and the step—the step I am about to take is taken not wholly, but mainly, on your account and Nan's."
Hester suddenly withdrew her hand from Sir John's arm. A kind of intuition told her what was coming. Like a flash a sword seemed to pierce right through her heart. She had a memory of her mother, of the loving eyes now closed—the voice so full of sympathy now silent. Was her mother to be supplanted and because of her? For once passion got the upper hand of prudence.
"Do it," she said, suddenly flashing round upon Sir John; "do it, certainly, if you wish, but do not do it for Nan's sake and mine. Nothing in all the wide world could pain us more."
Sir John looked as astonished as if Hester had suddenly slapped him in the face.
"Your words are extremely vigorous, my dear," he said in a voice of ice; "and I am not aware that I have yet told you what I mean to do."
"Oh, I know, I know," answered Hester; "you are going to marry again. Oh, don't do it for our sakes; that is all I have to say."
Sir John was quite silent for nearly a minute. Then he said quietly: "As you have been so clever as to guess my intention, you have of course saved me the trouble of breaking my news to you. Young girls sometimes resent the presence of a stepmother, but as a rule they appreciate the advantage of one when once they have become accustomed to the change. The lady who has honoured me by promising to accept my hand is Mrs. Bernard Temple. She is about my own age and has one daughter of seventeen—your age, Hester—whose name is Antonia. I have not yet seen Antonia, but I am told that she is a most charming, ladylike girl. Mrs. Bernard Temple has written to me to say she will come here on a visit on Saturday with Antonia. This is Thursday, and I expect you, Hester, in the meantime, to break the news to Nan, and to get everything ready for the honoured guests who will then arrive. I expect this is a surprise to you, my dear, so I forgive the excited words you have just made use of. You will doubtless have reason to rejoice yet at my decision. You are too young to be at the head of a great establishment like this, Hetty. I am doing wisely in removing such a burden from such young shoulders."
"I have never felt it a burden," said Hester in a choked voice.
"No; you have been good, very good, and now you will reap your reward. My marriage will probably take place in October, and my wife and I will return to the Grange for Christmas. Next season we shall probably have a house in town, when my dear Laura will present you and Antonia at one of the drawing-rooms."
Hester made no remark.
"I think that is all, my love," said Sir John; "you can now return to your friends. I have several letters to attend to."
"May I tell Mrs. Willis, and—and the others?" asked Hester.
"You may tell everyone; it is no secret."
Sir John took out his cigar case as he spoke, and Hester, with a sinking heart, turned away.
Annie, full of trouble on her account, dreading inexpressibly the moment when Mrs. Willis should ask her for the ring, was sauntering up and down, lost in anxious thought in front of the house.
She caught sight of Hester coming slowly towards her.
"Good gracious, Hetty, whatever is the matter?" she exclaimed. "I never saw your pale face with peonies on it before, and your eyes look as if you had been crying. I cannot imagine what has come to everyone," continued Annie; "the whole place seems to be in a ferment. Nora, I know, has been crying about something, and Molly's face looks positively blotchy."
"Oh, I should like to see Molly; is she here?" exclaimed Hester.
"Yes, she's on the lawn talking to Nora, and Guy is with them, and Mrs. Willis joined them half an hour ago. I was running up to them, but Nora shrieked out to me to keep away. What can be the matter? There seems to be an earthquake everywhere."
"So there is as far as I am concerned," replied Hester. "There is an awful earthquake, and I don't know at the present moment whether I am standing on my head or my heels."
"Dear me, you are on your heels," replied Annie; "but you look rather top-heavy, so do be careful."
"My father is going to marry again in October," continued Hester, "and my future stepmother is coming here on Saturday, and there is a girl called Antonia coming with her—her daughter, and—and Antonia will live at the Grange in the future, and Annie, I cannot realise it; oh, Annie, I cannot bear it."
"You poor darling," said Annie. She put her arm round Hester's neck and kissed her hot cheeks.
"What a horrid old man Sir John is," murmured Annie to herself; "what in the world is he making a goose of himself for?"
Aloud she said in a faint voice, "Oh, I am bitterly sorry for you. I don't know what I'd do to my dear old rough-and-ready father if he dared to give me another mother. And Hetty, Hetty, if these new people are coming on Saturday, must I go away?"
"No, of course not, Annie; it would make me much more wretched even than I am now not to have you in the house; oh, I really don't know how I dare tell Nan; she is so excitable, and Mrs. Martin has put her against stepmothers already."
"It doesn't matter half as much for her," said Annie, "for she will be at school most of the time. Would you like me to tackle her? I think I can get her to behave with outward propriety at least."
"I wish you would tell her," said Hester.
"Very well, I'll search for her right away; and shall I send Molly to you?"
"Dear Molly; yes, I'd rather see her than anyone."
"I'll fly round and tell her you're here," replied Annie.
She had now a reason for joining the group on the lawn, which not even Nora's frantic wavings of the hand to her to keep away could prevent her attending to.
"Molly," she said, not coming too near, but shouting from a little distance; "Hester is on the lawn at the back of the house and wants particularly to see you for a minute or two."
Molly stood up and shook out her crumpled holland frock.
"Very well," she said, "I'll go to her."
"Stay here, Guy," she continued, laying her hand on her brother's shoulder. "I won't stay long with Hetty, but she would think it unkind if I did not tell her. I wonder if she has heard anything. I won't be long away, for we must go back to the Towers before lunch, in order to be sure to be in time to meet mother."
Molly went slowly away, her poor dejected little figure showing only too plainly the weight of sad care which filled her heart.
Hester Thornton was, however, for once so self-centred that she could think of no sorrow but her own. She noticed nothing particular in Molly's lagging step, and guessed of no special sorrow in her tear-dimmed brown eyes.
Hester ran up to Molly and clutched her arm with feverish force.
"Oh, Molly," she gasped, "how can I bear it? my worst, worst fears are realised. My father is going to marry again."
These words gave Molly a shock; she turned quite white for a moment.
"Hester," she said, "oh, Hester, and I remember your mother, your sweet mother. I was only a very little girl when I saw her last. She was ill at the time and she died soon afterwards, but I cannot forget her face nor her words; she seemed something like an angel."
"So she was," said Hester. "A beautiful, dear angel—too good for this world."
Hester's courage gave way; she began to sob brokenly.
"Come into the field at the back of the house," said Molly; "we'll be quite alone there, and then you can tell me everything and I can tell you everything."
"Oh, have you bad news too?" said Hester. "Annie seemed to think you had; she said your face was blotchy, and that Nora had been crying. Oh, Molly dear, Molly dear, how selfish I am; I have been absolutely swallowed up in this dark cloud, and can think of no one but myself. I notice now how red your eyes are, and how sad your mouth. Poor, dear Molly, what is it? Is Nell really ill? Was that why you did not come back with us last night?"
"It isn't Nell," said Molly in a trembling voice; "it's—Hester—it's what we feared. We had a letter from mother this morning, and it's all over—it's all over, Hetty—the Towers is sold."
"And my father is going to marry again," said Hester; "it seems to me as if the world were turning topsy-turvey. Oh, Molly, what are we both to do?"
"Jane Macalister would say that we are not to think of ourselves," said Molly with a wan attempt at a smile, "but somehow I don't feel like following her advice just at present."
"Nor I either," replied Hester; "I never, never in the whole course of my life felt more horrid and wicked, and rebellious, and selfish."